


The Main Course

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Sex Toys, Smut, public naughtiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19044976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Dean indulges one of the reader’s fantasies





	The Main Course

Dean’s appearance in the doorway reflected in the mirror and you met his smile with your own. His eyes traveled down the length of your body, stopping at the curve of your ass in the black dress that hugged your curves.

“You look beautiful,” he stepped into the room as you turned, “good enough to eat.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, placing your hands on his chest when he slid his arms around your waist. His fingers groped your ass through the dress, his expression twisting with delight when he felt no panty lines under the material.

“Are you going commando?” he asked, his voice a giddy little whisper.

“Well,” you pushed up onto your tiptoes, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders, “I thought you might wanna get a little bit naughty in the car.”

Dean chuckled, pressing his lips against yours with a pleased hum. “We could start now,” he suggested and you giggled, shaking your head. Pulling back, Dean reached into his pocket, pulling out a small box. You frowned at it, knowing it was too big for an engagement ring - not that you ever expected that.

Hunters didn’t get the luxury of 2.4 kids and a picket fence.

“What is that?”

His face was akin to a kid’s at Christmas; Dean tugged the lid off of the box and presented the inside to you. You grinned, giving him a sly look. “You mentioned it,” he said slowly, removing the small egg, leaving the remote in the box, “and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“You want me to wear this to dinner?” You took the egg from his fingers as he nodded, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed a little nervously.

“Yeah,” Dean replied in a husky tone, biting his bottom lip between his teeth. “Wanna watch you squirm when I turn it on.”

“Dean Winchester,” you scolded, grinning up at him. “You’re a filthy bastard.”

“You love it,” he teased, slapping your ass playfully. “Want me to put it in?” Nodding, you handed the egg back, turning so you were looking in the mirror again. Dean pressed up behind you, placing the box on the dresser with the remote still inside. “Lift up your dress for me, sweetheart.”

Your fingers tugged at the hem of your dress, watching his movements in the mirror as he slid one hand over your bare thigh. Dean’s fingertips were rough from years of hunting and a shudder ran down your spine at his touch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, fingers stroking over your bare mound. You’d shaved everything - just the way he liked it. “Dirty girl.”

The egg was cold when he pressed it against your clit and you sucked in a breath, meeting his dark gaze in the mirror. With the index and forefinger of his left hand, Dean spread your pussy lips open, using his right hand to rub the toy against your clit.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was a whisper; you placed your hand over Dean’s, coaxing the egg further down. Dean groaned in your ear, pressing the toy into you, using one finger to slide it deep inside your soaked channel. You cursed under your breath, eyes fluttering closed as your walls clenched around the intrusion.

With a swift pat to your rump, Dean pulled away, adjusting his pants to conceal his erection. He smirked at you as you let your dress drop, snatching out a hand to retrieve the remote. “Safeword?”

“Lemons,” you replied huskily, eyeing his hand when he slipped the remote into his pocket. “You look really good.” Dean’s outfit was simple; black dress pants, a dark navy Henley with a sports coat. Not his usual look but tonight’s reservations weren’t your usual dining spot.

_ Oscar’s _ was a high-end Italian restaurant and somewhere you knew you probably wouldn’t visit again. It was the entire reason for Dean choosing the place - going to your favorite diner wasn’t the setting for what he had in mind.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked, arching an eyebrow at you across the front seat of the Impala and you smirked back.

“Getting scared or something, Winchester?” you challenged; he laughed and climbed out of the car, walking around to open the passenger door, holding it for you like a gentleman as you climbed out. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

The maitre’d met you at the host station, smiling pleasantly as he took you to your booth. The entire place was softly lit with faux candles, the booths separated by wooden trellises with ivy curtaining them for privacy. You slipped into one side of the booth, almost bouncing on the cushioned leather upholstery.

“Wine?” the server asked as she replaced the maitre’d, her tone polite and welcoming.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” Dean replied, sitting straight in his seat, his proper enunciation making you giggle. He flashed you a grin as he accepted the wine menu, peering at it like he knew what he was doing. “We’ll take a bottle of the ‘78 red.”

The server bowed her head, scurrying off to retrieve the wine.

“This place is so… posh,” you muttered, picking up the menu. “And expensive.”

Dean shrugged. “Not like we’re payin’,” he drawled, reaching into his pocket. You waited apprehensively, wondering if he’d turn the toy on, relieve the pounding ache in your belly. When he produced a credit card, you almost sighed in relief and the knowing smile on his face made you scowl.

The server returned before Dean could tease you and you both ordered. You opted for the calzone while Dean went for a large pasta dish, with extra cheese.

“To an evening off,” Dean chuckled, lifting his glass. You smiled, clinking yours with his and taking a sip of the rich liquid. “You looked worried when I went for my jacket,” he commented, watching you with an amused expression. “Scared?”

Pursing your lips, you remained silent, delicately sipping your wine. Dean laughed again, shaking his head.

“That’s cold, sweetheart,” he purred, his hand slipping off of the table again. The vibration was expected but you still jumped in your seat a little, moaning loud enough for him to hear. “But we’ll get you all warmed up.”

He turned the dial up one more notch, increasing the spasms of the toy inside you. His smirk grew as you placed your wine back on the table with shaking fingers, slowly dropping your hands to grip the edge of the seat below your quivering thighs.

“Oh, baby,” Dean growled, “you gonna last the night?”

You glared at him and he switched the toy off, just as the server returned with a basket of fresh bread. “Here you go,” she smiled, pleasantly, meeting your embarrassed gaze. “Is everything okay, madam? You look a little flushed. I can turn the air conditioning on above your booth if you would like?”

“No, no,” you mumbled, waving her off as Dean covered his laughter. 

She didn’t seem convinced but she backed off anyway, heading for the kitchen.

“Smooth,” Dean commented; you threw him another glare. “You don’t seem to be enjoying this.” He paused, tilting his head. “Baby, if you’re not -”

“Shut up,” you hissed, shifting in your seat, “I’m just a little nervous.” It wasn’t a lie - the bravado you’d had in the car had waned with each moment since you walked in. With Dean’s hand on the remote, you weren’t sure how you felt about pursuing your exhibitionist fantasies.

The server returned with your food and you thanked her, both of you digging in as soon as she was gone. Dean’s food was a literal mountain of pasta - he’d specifically picked a place with good portions - and your food was mouth wateringly delicious.

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything this fancy,” you murmured, spearing a piece of calzone with your fork. “Oh, god, Dean, the cheese…”

“I know right?” Dean grunted, shoveling a mouthful of pasta and cheese in his mouth, rolling his eyes in delight. “God, Sam said this place had good reviews -”

“You told Sam?”

“I asked for advice on a restaurant,” Dean clarified. “I don’t exactly do the dating thing and Sam knows what I like and where’s good.” He hummed as he shoved another forkful of pasta between his lips. “Also, he knows how to use Trip Advisor.”

You giggled at that, shaking your head as you settled in to eat your meal. Dean’s hand remained in sight at the table, neither of you saying anything but sneaking smiles and glimpses at each other. Your meal was smaller than his, yet Dean apparently had a bigger mouth and appetite.

“Damn, this is good. Remind me to buy Sam a beer.” He sat back, picking up the napkin to dab at the corner of his mouth. You smiled, still working your way through the food on your plate, distracted by the wonderful taste.

Dean snuck his hand into his pocket, pressing the remote onto the lower setting. It took you entirely by surprise and you squealed loudly, covering your mouth with one hand as Dean laughed. “You could have made me choke!” you ground out, wiping away a dribble of tomato sauce that had escaped your lips.

“I will later,” Dean replied, eyes darkening, “if you ask nicely.”

He turned the dial on the remote again and you dropped your napkin, clutching the edge of the table.

“Perfect timing,” Dean muttered, his gaze drifting past you to the server as she returned.

“Hey, how are you finding everything?” she asked chirpily, her brow furrowing a little as your knuckles turned white gripping the table edge.

“Fantastic.” Dean clapped his hands together, leaving the remote on in his pocket. The vibrations stole your breath away, the toy pressing right against your sweet spot. “I think my wife might be struggling,” he joked.

“It’s -” You swallowed, forcing yourself to smile, even though your eyes wanted to roll back in your head. “It’s very good. Maybe - uhh - a little too much?”

The server looked concerned, her eyebrows dipping a little more. “Would you like some water?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” you insisted, seeing Dean’s hand drop back into his jacket out of the corner of your eye. The vibrations increased and you started to worry she’d hear them. “Oh! Sorry, I - ahh -” You clutched your chest. “Indigestion, sorry. I ate a little too quickly.”

The cover up was smooth and the server smiled. “I think I have some antacid in my locker?”

“It’s fine,” you assured her, reaching for your wine with shaking fingers.

“Could we get the check?” Dean asked suddenly, his expression stiff. “I should probably take her home.”

“Of course,” the server replied, bowing her head again, giving you one final glance before heading off to the till. You were panting now as you watched her leave, turning your attention back to Dean.

“I thought -”

“I can’t do it,” he conceded. “If I don’t fuck you now -”

The server returned and Dean shut up, smiling awkwardly at her, tugging the corner of his jacket over his erection. His other hand went into his pocket, shutting off the vibration, much to your relief. 

Your dress felt wet under your ass. Watching Dean pay the bill, adding a generous tip, you shifted, suddenly worried that standing would reveal to the world that the back of your dress was soaked with your arousal.

“Dean,” you whispered, eyeing the server warily. “Can I borrow your jacket?”

Dean’s head tilted and he quickly took the receipt, thanking the server once more before she moved off. “Everything okay?”

“I’m...er…” Your cheeks darkened with your shame. “Wet.”

It took a second for understanding to dawn on his face. “Fuck,” he groaned, getting up and shedding his jacket, moving to drop it over your shoulders. It just about covered your ass as you slid from the seat and Dean moaned under his breath when you whimpered at the sensitivity in your nether regions.

You were barely out of the door when he had you against the wall, kissing you breathless. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled, “and I wanna be inside you, right now.” He tugged you away toward the alley down by the parking lot, smiling as you giggled at his impatience.

“Car?” you asked and Dean shook his head, pushing you into the darkness, right up against the wall. Bracing your hands against the stone, you whined into Dean’s kisses, clutching at the sleeves of his shirt.

“No,” he grunted, fumbling with the belt of his pants, “want you. Now.”

His impatience made you shudder, and when he slipped a hand under your dress, you gasped, feeling his fingers against your slit. The toy was buried deep, designed for withdrawal by the small cord at the end. Dean’s thick fingers managed to grasp it and the feeling of it dragging along your inner walls made you dig your nails into his shoulders.

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, holding the soaked toy up. “Did you cum?”

“No,” you gasped, watching him tuck the toy into the pocket of his jacket, still draped around your shoulders. Dean hummed in approval when you spread your thighs for him, putting up no resistance when he lifted you off the ground to wrap your legs around his waist.

You were wet enough that his cock slid into you with one stroke, both of you groaning at the sudden connection, panting into each other’s mouths. Dean didn’t wait long for you to adjust, pulling back and slamming into you with hard strokes that forced you up the wall.

The quiet whimpers you’d been making broke into cries as he hit the same spot the vibrator had stimulated; Dean covered your mouth with his hand to silence you, rutting into you harder and harder with each thrust.

“Gonna cum,” he growled out and you shook your head, so close to your own orgasm you felt like passing out. But Dean couldn’t hold back, the slap of his thighs against yours echoing around the alleyway. If anyone walked past, there’d be no doubt as to what you were doing.

Your climax came a few seconds before his and you screamed into his hand. Dean silenced his own roar of completion by burying his mouth against your shoulder, still frantically fucking you against the wall as he spilled deep inside you.

When he finally slowed to a complete stop, you couldn’t feel your legs. Letting you down, Dean kissed you softly, withdrawing and tucking his spent, sticky cock back into his pants. You hummed, swaying on wobbly legs as you felt his spendings trickle down your thighs.

“That probably would have been more comfortable in the car,” he admitted, chuckling as you stared at him with glassy eyes.

“How about a bed?” you suggested. “Or did that wear you out?”

Dean growled, hauling you against his chest, kissing you fiercely. “Hell hasn’t frozen over yet, sweetheart.”


End file.
